Puzzle
by mishy-mo
Summary: TAG for Who's your Daddy?, alternate last scene. Cameron arrives before House can reach for the morphine. HouseCameron [ish]


Puzzle

Pain.

That was all he could focus on.

He'd tried walking; in straight lines, circles, zig-zags and curvy paths throughout his flat.

He'd tried watching football, porn and listening to jazz. Separately then all at the same time and that didn't work either.

His almost delirious mind wandered to the green lock box that lay stashed under the couch from the last time he'd sunk to that level just a few short days ago.

That level had been reached and passed already, so with a grunt he twisted on the sofa, lying on his front, and reached into the depths under the couch.

He felt nothing but dust under his fingertips until they spread over the cool metal of the lock box, but before he could even move it the sound of a fast insistent knock on the door reached his ears.

He groaned slightly and waited. Waited for them to give up and go away. Waited to hear soft footsteps heading away from the door.

But they knocked again.

And again.

And again.

"Alright." He shouted, taking his time to get off the couch and make his way to the door. He grabbed his cane on the way intending to use it to gain sympathy or smack his late night caller around the head.

"What!" he shouted opening the door to be faced with a strange yet familiar sight.

Cameron stood before him.

The last time she stood on his doorstep she was tired, timid, nervous and a little scared.

Granted she did look tired, as if she had just came straight from the hospital after wrapping up loose ends and writing reports of their latest cases, but there is where the similarities ended. She looked confidant, determined, and if he was honest with himself, which as a rule he generally wasn't, down right sexy.

"What are you doing here?" he said disdainfully and frowning.

"Get inside."

"I don't know if you know this, but this is my home." He said condescendingly, shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot.

Something that did not go unnoticed by Cameron.

"Get inside."

She put her hand on his chest and pushed slightly, just enough for him to get the point but gentle that he wouldn't be caught off guard and put extra weight on his already troublesome leg.

He briefly thought that he could get used to this new forceful Cameron.

She kicked the door shut behind her as she steered him deeper into the darkened room until he felt his upper thighs hit the curve of the back of the couch.

He watched as she dropped her bag and shrugged off her jacket only to throw it on top.

"Again, what are you doing here?" he tried again a little more seriously.

"Take off your pants." She said with such a deadpan look that he wondered if that's what she really said.

"What the hell?"

She sighed deeply then said once again, "Take off your pants."

"I'll consider it when you answer my question."

"Your leg hurts."

"No shit. But that's what Vicodin is for." He said mockingly.

"And it hasn't been working recently, has it?" She said stepping closer to him, with a devilishly unfamiliar glint in her eye. "And I bet you have a couple of bottles of morphine lying around here."

He gulped slightly, betraying the fact that she could read him so well be for he became composed enough to reply; "No."

She smiled knowingly.

"Take off you pants."

"Now what does that have to do with my leg?"

"I interrupted your treatment this afternoon; I'm going to finish it."

"Guilt." He muttered.

She didn't reply but both of them knew that he had it right.

"Take of you pants." She said once again.

He grinned mischievously, glad of his little interactive distraction despite the throbbing pain in his leg, then proceeded to unbuckle his belt and fly and push his pants to the floor, careful not to send his boxers with them.

He couldn't help the little twinge of excitement that went through him as her watched her kneel in front of him.

She took his feet one by one out of the material that had pooled around his ankles, and then cast his pants aside. She touched lightly on the place where muscle should be, the scar that stretched at least 20 inches before beginning the routine she'd learned during night classes and medical school.

Just thirty seconds after she began kneading his aching limbs he lost his grip on his cane, clattering loudly off to the right and leaned back on the sturdy couch.

"Where did you learn this?" he asked off-handed-ly and a little distracted, as he began to feel the pain subside.

"Night classes, I think." She said a little breathlessly.

"You still can't fix me, you know."

"Yup, but this isn't about you."

"Really, just working out the guilt? I was hoping you just wanted to see me naked."

He wasn't surprised when he did not receive and answer. He was surprised however, when her swift and perfectly pressured movements continued without the slightest hitch or hesitation.

Maybe this was about her.

The conundrum the knelt before him was doing wonders for the pain.

It wasn't just that the physio was good; in fact it was great and wondered if she'd ever thought of doing this instead of working for him. But also the emotional puzzle she had recently presented.

Sure, he found it quite amusing the last time she had shown up at his door, but this was far more intriguing. She was changing.

Normally Cameron was so dependable for the very fact that you knew she would never change. And quite honestly he had not expected this sudden shift. Her attitude to work had hardly changed at all; she was still overly caring, still risking her life and taking the doctor's oath a little too seriously in his mind. So why now was she so confidant when compared with the timid girl she had been last year?

Did she have a boyfriend?

He glanced down; watching her work his muscles in a way that made him wish he could put her in a bottle and carry her around in his pocket.

Nah, if she had a boyfriend she wouldn't be here.

And he very much doubted that sleeping with Chase could have caused this change either. A green tinged thing swept through him and disappeared just as quickly.

So maybe it was just her.

He always had two rules, everybody lies and no one changes.

But here she was the exception to his rules, the conundrum making the pain disappear as if she truly had a healers touch.

Yeah right, he had had enough of his share of 'healers' this year.

But still she worked at his leg and his mind.

"Ever thought of this as a career?" he said the tone in his voice indistinguishable.

"I don't know wither to take that as a compliment or an insult." She said honestly.

"Which is more likely?"

"Well, if it's an insult then you're saying that I'm not good at my current job in which case you probably would have already fired me, so I must be good at this then. Insult is more likely, but it seems like a compliment to me."

"Who says I don't just keep you round to make the room look prettier?"

A slight hitch in her movements, but only very slight.

And then her ministrations began to slow and he pretty much lost the ability to speak; he could feel every shift of her fingers and the effects of it on his relaxed muscles. He couldn't help but hiss slightly as she drove the heals of her hands up the sides of his leg as her fingers lead the way, the heal of her hand stopped at his knee but her finger tips had already gone too far.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked worriedly looking up to his face as her hands fell away.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, smiled and answered. "No, not exactly."

Her gaze was confused for a moment, before a flicker of understanding shot through them.

In all honestly he thought she'd up and leave but instead she returned her hands to his limb, shocking him once more and adding to the puzzle that looked to be almost unsolvable.

A tang of pain shot through his leg (cancelling out the hiss-worthy occurrence from his anatomy) before her hands had returned to their movements. But he had to hand it to her, she was good.

She could read him well enough to know when he was going to be in pain before he did.

When did she become so apt at reading him? When did he become so predicable?

Of course he could always be counted on to be moody, glum, watching General Hospital, playing with is ball, fix people, dodge clinic hours, fix more people, be mean, sarcastic and wear a varying 5 o'clock shadow. But he liked to think that he was unpredictable.

Impenetrable.

No one got in unless he wanted them to.

Except her.

Maybe this was about him after all.

And then it stopped. His leg felt cold and relaxed as her warm hands fell away.

"Done already?"

"You're not in pain anymore."

"Who's to say I won't be?"

No answer.

"Could you hand me up my cane?"

Instead she took his right arm and brought it round her shoulders, bringing her left arm around his waist to steady him.

"Where we going?"

"Through there." He said pointing to a darkened hallway.

Initially he was reluctant to put much of his weight on her, but his leg was just too relaxed and he didn't want to spoil her hard work. And together they made their way surprisingly steady and swiftly to his room and subsequently his bed; Cameron seemed to be surprising him no end this evening.

For a second he wondered if he had already taking something and that he was actually dreaming or hallucinating. But that was quickly dispelled when he thought how boring this would be for a hallucination and the fact that he didn't swing his leg high enough and ended up hitting it against the side of the bed and releasing a strangled cry.

More pain.

He began to thrash his arms against the bed in a fit of rage and agony but a small warm hand on his chest caused him to calm.

And she set to work again.

By the time she was finished; he breathing had changed pace; slow, steady and almost asleep. She glanced at the red glow of the alarm clock that she doubted had ever been used as an alarm.

10.47.

In some ways it was late. And others early, but no matter she stood up and headed towards the bedroom door.

"Thanks."

"S'okay."

"See you tomorrow."

"Night."

She made it to the door frame.

"Why are you changing?" he said groggily.

"What do you mean?"

"You're getting pushy, confidant. Just changing."

"You're a bad influence."

"S'not me." He said matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you want to know? Why have you even noticed, for that matter?"

"Because it's a puzzle. You're a puzzle, you're interesting and you're a member of my team."

"You have nothing to worry about."

"I noticed. You are changing, not your work. Even better puzzle."

"Is that all I am?"

"Hmm; confrontational but needy as well. You and yet, not you." He murmured loud enough for her to hear.

Silence swept through the room but neither was prepared to move at the time. Luckily it was just physical for one of them.

"No." he said sincerely.

She paused for a moment looking back at the shadowy figure that lay prone on the bed.

"Do you need anything to sleep?"

He knew she meant pain killers or sleeping pills with that last question but for a moment he was tempted to ask her to stay. At that moment the idea of having her close made him feel …just made him feel. At that moment the idea of her warm weight against his side and on his chest seemed comforting. But the moment continued, and lasted for at least 30 seconds before he decided to give in.

"You." He said plainly, "You, would be nice."

She was stock still. Maybe he could get away with it. Maybe she'd think he was just joking or being sarcastic.

"You're serious?"

God, she was really good a reading him. Shit.

"Yeah."

An eternity passed.

And then she moved.

Again not in the direction he expected.

She moved deeper into the room and sat on the opposite edge of the bed before removing her shoes from her feet and lifting them on to the bed.

He sighed and reached over putting his left arm under her shoulders and his right hand on her far hip and drew her close. She squealed slightly and the quickness of the movement, she squirmed slightly as she shifted limbs that had been caught off guard by the movement. But they settled soon enough, her head on his shoulder she listened as his heartbeat sped up and then slowed, as he let out a small content sigh. It was all very …domestic. Somehow he'd had managed to take hold of her and splay their fingers against each other before they became entwined resting on his chest.

She never thought she'd be this close, that he'd ever let her be this close.

And it had all happened rather strangely; Cameron was all to aware that he was not interested in her romantically, and she was pretty sure that she'd given up on him so what did that make this?

Just friends?

Was it even that?

Cameron had her own puzzle to sleep on.

"Night Alison."

"Goodnight Greg."

And they slept.

Each with a puzzle in their arms, minds and hearts.


End file.
